his own before she made contact.
“Tell me truly,” he said, sobering. “Why have ye taken on so much, Birdie? Why do ye carry the clan on yer own shoulders?”
She stared down at where her hand rested in his. A heavy sigh slipped past her lips.
“Even though my family calls me Birdie, my father named me Roberta for a reason.”
“Aye?” he prodded gently.
“I’m named after Robert the Bruce,” she said, her voice quiet and rueful. “I was born just after he was crowned King at Scone. Of course, if I’d been a boy, I would have simply been Robert, but given that I was a lass, it became Roberta. My father was nigh bursting with pride in our new King, and hope for our country. He wanted to imbue his eldest born with the same prospects.”
She smiled faintly, her gaze growing distant. “It was Tessa who began calling me Birdie. Roberta was too much for her wee tongue when she was a bairn. Our mother picked it up next.”
“When did she pass?” he murmured.
“Many years ago. She wasnae the same after Tessa was born. It was a complicated birth, and she remained weak and prone to illness afterward. When Tessa was five, a mild sickness moved through the castle. We all fell ill, but my mother never recovered.”
The pain in her voice made Gregor’s gut clench. He swirled his thumb in her palm, tracing the delicate lines there, wordlessly trying to give her comfort.
“My father grieved for many years,” she continued. “Theirs was a love match, despite the fact that he was to be Laird and should have married for the betterment of the clan, no’ his own heart. He didnae wish to remarry, despite the fact that he’d only sired two daughters. And then, a year past, the accident happened.”
“Does this have to do with the weakness on his left side?”
“Ye noticed?”
“Of course. His limp is faint but affects his gait nonetheless. His left arm seems to carry the worst of it.”
“It is much better than it was at first,” she said. “Just after it happened, the whole left side of his face drooped down like melting tallow. He couldnae speak or walk at all.” She shivered, wrapping her free hand around her middle. “We didnae ken if he would ever recover. It was terrifying.”
“What happened?”
“It wasnae truly an accident,” she replied. “He was overseeing the work at the bog when some sort of tremor seized him and he fell off his horse. At first, we thought the damage to his left side was from the fall, but when he didnae get better after a fortnight, we brought in a physician. He called it apoplexia, a sudden gripping illness that causes stagnation of the blood and weakness on one side.”
When she shivered again, he shrugged out of his cloak and slung it around her shoulders. Unfortunately, it meant releasing her hand, but a new warmth kindled within him to see her snuggling into his cloak, pulling it close as if in an embrace.
God, he’d never been jealous of a scrap of wool before.
“He has improved much in the past year, then,” he said to distract himself from the nigh overpowering urge to drag her into his arms.
“Aye, we are lucky indeed. But…it took months for him to recover enough to resume even a fraction of his responsibilities. I was already running the keep in my mother’s stead.” She lifted a shoulder as if the only solution was obvious. “So I took on my father’s duties as well.”
An awed silence washed over him. Gregor had been called the best warrior in the Highlands, but Birdie was the one unparalleled in strength, grit, and determination.
“Must it all fall to ye, lass?” he nudged. “Cannae Tessa help carry yer load? Or Lamond?”
“Lamond already has his hands full with this Gunn business. And Tessa helps out managing the servants, but I dinnae wish to overburden her.” Birdie let a breath go. “In truth, I still think of her as a wee bairn, even though at twenty she’s old enough to be wed.”
“Mayhap she should be, if it would ease yer clan’s troubles.”
“Nay,” she said, swift and decisive. “I would never saddle her with such a responsibility. If anyone must wed for the clan’s benefit, the duty lies with me, no’ her.”
She cast him a sideways glance, her lips quirking. “Besides, as ye so delicately pointed out earlier, her old crone of a sister is still unwed. It would be unseemly for the younger to